Tudor Rose
by xteamlibertea
Summary: Upon landing a photography internship to the prestigious Tudor Rose magazine, Alfred F. Jones must learn the ins and outs of the fashion world. Several roadblocks are in his way to a passing grade, including snooty models, rival competition, secret projects, and most importantly, the dangerously attractive editor-in-chief. UKUS.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that morning, Alfred let out a gigantic yawn as he took a sip of his to-go coffee. He had only arrived in London a few days ago, accompanied by his brother, and the jet lag was still affecting him. Besides that, it was way too early in the morning for him. Thankfully, the two brothers' university had placed them at the same business for their internship, and as cool as that was, Alfred had not been expecting an international placement. So now Alfred was in a different country with different customs and different (terrible) food at a different university with different people.

Alfred liked the change, but this was a bit of a culture shock. The only thing that was the same was Matthew, his brother, who fortunately was walking to work with Alfred that tiring morning. Alfred glanced over at his brother, who was wearing a coat, suit and tie, and looked completely more professional than Alfred. Alfred himself was in a coat with only a button-up shirt, albeit tucked in (which gave him a few points), and a pair of khakis. Alfred was never one for dressing up, and hated it even more when he was forced into it.

He tilted his sunglasses down to look at his little brother. "Don't you think you're overdoing it a little bit with that get-up, Matt? Also, where are we going again? I already forgot."

The younger of the two brothers sighed. He held his tongue, knowing that getting upset with Alfred was completely useless. His older brother's mind was always elsewhere, dreaming up something big and impossible, when it should be right here in the now.

"We're going to Tudor Rose Magazine, Alfred. A-Aand no, I don't think that my outfit is too overdone. Didn't dDad always say, 'Dress for the position a-above the one that you want to get. T-That way, you'll n-never offend anyone.' P-Pplus, they wanted us to dress p-professionally, Alfred," the poor man stammered. Matthew was far shyer than his extroverted brother, and it tended to extend into his speech patterns.

Alfred looked down at his clothes, feeling just a little self-conscious. _I think this is professional enough…_

Matthew had already finished his morning coffee and was pleasantly awake in the brisk, morning air of London. He bit his lip tentatively as he offered a piece of advice to Alfred. "Y-You also… might want to know the name of the magazine w-we're about to work for, Alfred…" he said as they went through the crosswalk, only a block away from the office building.

Alfred let out a full snort. "Psh, I'll be fine. You worry too much. And oh yeah! Tudor Rose! Thanks, bro-ha, you're the best!" He gave his brother a playful nudge as they crossed the street. He looked up at the shiny, modern building in front of them, wide-eyed. It had to be at least thirty stories high.

"So this… This is where we're going? Damn, if it looks so fancy from the outside, I can't wait to see the inside!" Alfred put on a cheeky grin. "You ready, Mattie?"

The soft-spoken boy smiled and nodded. "Y-Yes, I'm ready!"

The two boys walked up to the main door, Matthew getting to the door and holding it open for Alfred. He got caught holding the door for a few other people, having to hurry to catch up with his brother. The inside of the building's foyer was buzzing with the morning rush. People hurried to the elevators, getting themselves ready for the day. Nearly everyone was on some sort of electronic device or was chatting with another person. The room itself was very clean and of an efficient, ergonomic design. Mostly everything was modern in style, with a black and white monochromatic color scheme. Small pops of color were dispersed around the room, such as a green plant or an emerald or ruby line of tiles. A main desk of receptionists was positioned in the center of the room, about three women who smiled and greeted everyone a good morning.

Alfred looked around wildly, taking the lobby and its sights in. _DUDE! So many people! This is TOTALLY my kind of place, man! And it's so funky too!_

Looking very overwhelmed, Matthew leaned over towards his brother. "I-I think we should… g-go and introduce ourselves to t-those women. T-They'll probably know… w-where we need to go…"

"Oh, those three chicks?" Alfred asked, gesturing over towards the receptionists. "All right, no worries, bro. I got this."

Alfred strutted his way over to the three women and took off his sunglasses upon reaching the desk, revealing his trademark baby blue eyes. "Good morning, ladies. My name is Alfred F. Jones and this is my brother, Matthew Williams. We're the new interns for Tudor Rose Magazine. Would you be so kind as to point us in the right direction?" He finished his very suave greeting with a flash of a smile, his shiny teeth practically sparkling as the light hit them.

All of the receptionists seemed to be blown away by the young American man. The first receptionist smiled brightly, turning on her own level of charm, and nodded. "Ah, yes, the new interns! I'm sure that Mister Honda will be thrilled to know that you're here. I'll just buzz for him right away. He will meet you over at the elevators in a moment, gentlemen, to show you to your respective placements." She nodded to them, dismissing the two men. Before Alfred and Matthew had even left the desk, the receptionist turned to the phone to call the mentioned Mr. Honda.

Matthew, who had followed behind Alfred, tentatively tugged on Alfred's sleeve. "C-Come on, Alfred..!" he whispered. "We should go over to the elevators."

Alfred nodded in agreement. "Thank you, ladies!" He gave them one last smile before being dragged away by his brother. _Leave it to Mattie to drag me away from every pretty girl that I talk to._

The two walked over together, weaving through people, though not having much luck of getting there promptly. Most of the businessmen tended to walk right into Matthew while the poor boy tried to keep his bag from falling off of his shoulder. Upon reaching the elevators, Alfred jumped to steady Matthew with a single, firm arm, preventing him from stumbling everywhere. Matthew looked up gratefully at his older brother.

"I w-wonder who Mr. Honda is…"

"Dunno," Alfred replied, looking around. "Oh hey, maybe he's related to the car maker! Ya think? That would be so cool! Also, bro, you gotta speak up a little louder. It's hard to hear you in here with all of these people."

Matthew blushed, his brows furrowing as he attempted to speak louder. "I-I'm sorry! It's hard to hear y-you, even… o-over how many people there are! And I d-doubt he's actually… related to the carmaker, Alfred. E-Especially if he's… o-over here in England, s-selling… a-and working on a magazine f-for fashion!"

"Well, you never know, Matt. Ever heard of six degrees of Kevin Bacon—?"

At that moment, Alfred's sentence was cut off by the pinging of one of the elevators, which miraculously seemed to reach the ground floor, despite most of the others being so occupied. A short, nervous-looking Japanese man hurried out as a wave of workers entered the huge elevator. This, thankfully, decreased the noise level in the room. The Japanese man shook his head, seeming to murmur something to himself about "noisy Europeans" before straightening his tie. He looked around the room, most likely looking for the two brothers.

The younger brother leaned over towards the other, his already soft voice getting softer as he whispered. "S-Something tells me… t-that is Mr. Honda," he said with a smile just as the Japanese man found them and started to walk over.

"Hello," Mr. Honda said with a polite smile, his accent quite obvious through his English. "My name is Kiku Honda. I'd like to welcome you to Tudor Rose Magazine. I'm our company's CEO and Editor-in-Chief's personal assistant. I assume that you are both the Jones brothers?"

Alfred put on a smile and extended his hand to shake Mr. Honda's. "That is correct. I'm Alfred. This is Matthew. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Honda. Thank you for the welcome!"

The Japanese man accepted Alfred's hand and strongly shook it. As customary for Japanese citizens, he bowed forward a bit into the handshake. Upon closer inspection, Alfred could see that the man was dressed in a deep, dark chocolate brown suit that was extremely rich in color and expensive in the material choice. He had a mauve button-down shirt paired with it, and a tie that matched the main suit.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, too, Alfred and Matthew. Please, come this way." Mr. Honda gestured towards an elevator and pressed a button. By then, most of the crowd had gone to their respective offices. An elevator soon appeared, and the man led the two others inside. He hit a few bypass buttons of a code rather quickly, and then they were on their way.

Alfred was surprised to feel the elevator still going after a while, having expected them to only go up a few floors. _Oh man, how high up is this office?_

"Was your flight pleasant?"

Alfred stuck his hands into his pockets as he looked over at Kiku. "Yeah, very much so. It was a direct flight. We've been enjoying the city so far, although it's going to take me a while to get used to driving on the left side of the road!" he laughed.

At first, Mr. Honda blinked at the young man, having trouble understanding the fast-talking American. But after a moment, he nodded in understanding. "Ah, I see. That is right, Americans do drive on the right side of the road. I had forgotten. But yes, it can be quite a switch. You will soon get used to everything in the city. It is not that difficult."

"Oh good, but no need to worry, I can adapt to change rather quickly!"

Matthew nods in agreement with his brother, hesitantly smiling at the Japanese man. "Y-yes, everyone has been s-so kind to us thus f-far."

Mr. Honda nodded as he took out a clipboard. "That is very good to hear. I am sure that our Editor-in-Chief will be thrilled to hear that, as well."

 _He keeps mentioning this editor-in-chief chick,_ Alfred thought, _She must be pretty important._

Mr. Honda seemed to be checking things off on his clipboard as he spoke, looking up after going over a certain piece of information. "Ah, this is right. It says that you, Mister Williams—…? Williams? But I thought your name was 'Jones?' Has there been a mix-up?"

 _Oh gosh, here we go again. This always takes forever to explain,_ Alfred thought _. Can't the answer just be because Matthew was born in Canada and therefore he does weird things?_

Matthew shook his head. "O-Oh no, there's no mix-up. My brother and I do have different last names," he explained softly. "I h-have my mother's l-last name and Alfred has our father's surname."

"Ah, I see," Mr. Honda said with understanding, believing the Americans to have very strange customs. "Well, you shall be stationed as an intern with our writing division. You expressed interest in that, so they were able to match you up with a few writers there. They will work as guides for you, and you will work as their assistant."

Matthew beamed happily, earning an encouraging pat on the shoulder from Alfred. "Congrats, Matt, you'll do great like always!" Matthew smiled at his brother, knowing that Alfred was a good big brother when it counted.

Alfred was rather eager to hear about his own placement, his energy and impatience increasing as Mr. Honda turned back to his notepad.

"Yes, Matthew will be up on the twentieth floor today. The team there will introduce you to everyone. Alfred, you will be with the photographers and will be working as their assistant. I believe you put down on your résumé that you enjoy photography? Well, this will be your opportunity there—" Kiku cut himself off as he looked at the paper once more, "—Oh, I'm sorry… It seems that, although you will be working with the photographers, today you will need to meet with someone else this morning. The Editor-in-Chief wants to speak with you directly, Mr. Jones."

 _SAY WHAT?!_

Alfred was shocked, not to mention speechless—which never really happened very often, even by the best surprises—that the boss wanted to talk with him.

"The Editor-in-Chief… wants to speak with me? Wow." Alfred scratched the back of his head as he let out a slight chuckle, his discomfort evident by his tone. "Oh boy, I didn't already do something wrong, did I?" Alfred let out a nervous laugh, exchanging a glance with his brother.

Mr. Honda shook his head with his standard, polite smile on his face. "I am sure that it is nothing that you did wrong, Mr. Jones. It might be because they have a special assignment for you. We shall see."

 _There's no way that this boss chick could've heard anything bad about me,_ Alfred thought _. I made sure THAT was deleted off of my record! What could she possibly want with me, then?!_

Alfred tried to remain as calm as Alfred-ly possible and rid his face of concern. "A special assignment? Okay, I'm always up for a challenge!"

The secretary nodded. "But first, we must drop off Mister Williams—" The bell rung, signaling that they had reached their first destination, and the door slid open for the twentieth floor. "—Here."

Matthew peeked hesitantly out the door, similar to a small animal looking out into the big world for the first time, but then smiled sweetly to Alfred. "G-Good luck, Alfred. You'll be great. T-Text me so we can go home t-together."

Alfred sent Matthew a reassuring grin. "You, too, Matt! I'm sure you'll do awesome! Will do!"

The younger boy smiled, then looked to the secretary. "A-And thank you, too, Mr. Honda."

Matthew stepped out of the elevator and waved to the both of them, looking quite nervous. The doors closed, but not before Alfred got to give him a discreet thumbs up. The doors closed, allowing Alfred to straighten up and take a deep breath to compose himself as the elevator started to quickly ascend once more.

Kiku smiled over his clipboard. "You and your brother are very close, yes? That is good; you will already have one friend here, Mister Jones. Adjusting to a new culture can be very confusing and difficult for some. But you seem like you are up to any challenge, isn't that right?"

Alfred stared at the man's clipboard for a brief moment. _What does he keep on that thing? A schedule? A Death Note? Porn?_

The American's eyes darted up to Kiku's face with a smile. "Yeah, we are pretty close. We were very excited when we heard that we would be interning in the same place. And yes, Mr. Honda, I am always up to any challenge. Plus, I'm a big people-person. I'm sure I'll adjust in no time!" Alfred flashed him a winning grin before glancing at the elevator buttons, wondering if they were even still moving.

Kiku chuckled softly at the younger man's enthusiasm. "Well, that is good. Being friendly is good, but make sure not to be too eager, Mr. Jones." Just as he gave him that odd piece of information, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

As Kiku started to leave, Alfred could see that they were on the very top floor of the entire building. Alfred's eyes widened as he took in the new scenery. _This...I think this is the nicest place I've ever been in. I really hope my shoes aren't muddy._ He looked down just to double-check. _Nope, we're good._

The two men walked into an office foyer that seemed rather small, in comparison to how large the building's floor plan was, with a main desk and several cubicle stations. "This is the top floor of Tudor Rose. This is where the personal assistants to the Editor-in-Chief work. My desk is over there." He gestured to a very neat, sparse desk that seemed to have everything in a minimalistic order. "Now, be careful while talking to the boss. The Editor-in-Chief does not like being interrupted or asked many questions, unless they ask you if you have any for them." Kiku lead him to a large set of double doors made of a dark, solid wood. He then turned around right before the doors, giving Alfred one final moment to speak. "Now, before we enter, do you have any questions for me, Mr. Jones?"

Alfred tried not to look overwhelmed. "Uh, don't interrupt, few questions unless asked, do not pass go, do not collect $200. I think I got it." He smiled at Kiku, impressed with his own lighthearted joke.

The secretary blinked in confusion. "I do not think we are paying you, and definitely not two hundred dollars, Mr. Jones." Not getting the cultural joke, Kiku pushed open the doors.

The room inside is a mix of modern and historical in some odd manner that seemed to work. Upon the far side of the room opposite to the doors was an entire wall of glass overlooking the city. The floor was a very gentle, off-white tile, towards a gray spectrum, but so slight the layman's eye would completely overlook it. On the wall to the right of Alfred, a door sits in the middle of a wall of bookshelves. Novels, guides, picture folders, textbooks, and what looked like other magazines were meticulously organized along the wall, everything in its place. To the left seemed to be a large, modern-style frame for a worktable with a walnut-wood tabletop. Lights, two mannequins (male and female), and a few chairs surrounded the space. A soft, green carpet rested underneath an L-shaped desk that sat front and center, directly across from the double doors. A computer, modern desk light, and large rolling office chair completed the look. It was completely devoid of anything else to personalize it except for a nameplate that read one thing:

 _Kirkland._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A figure, about 5'9" in height, leaned back against the desk, their back to Alfred and Kiku, talking on a cellphone. "Yes, ma'am, we need those fabrics in by today. Yes, at least the samples will do. We can match them to the remainder of the pages we have before the deadline, since you are so behind, and we can just plug them into their proper places before the final is sent out. Yes. Yes, you're welcome. Yes. Good day."

Alfred stared at the back of this man with a confused look. _What the heck? Where's the editor-in-chief chick? Maybe she went out for coffee or-WAIT. HE'S the editor-in-chief?! SHE'S a HE? The editor-in-chief is a DUDE?!_ He thought, glancing down at the desk. _Kirkland? That can't be his first name. Does he only go by one name? Does he think he's Madonna or something…_

Alfred was completely lost his train of thought as the man turned. The intern was practically smacked with the most intense gaze anyone has ever given him in his entire life. Light, short-cut blonde hair sat atop of the man's head, slightly tousled and askew. Yet his expression and his furrowed, dark eyebrows made sure that Alfred knew that everything about his appearance was carefully calculated. This was a man who made no mistakes at all. His strong shoulders and slight figure were wrapped in a white button-down shirt and a gray suit with a muted plaid pattern. A forest green tie poked through the ensemble, a perfectly done Windsor. His expression was intense and certainly not friendly as his eyebrows stayed lowered, looking Alfred over with a critical eye. But even the unfriendliest of gazes could not hide the fact that this man was quite attractive. The man seemed to scan over the new intern, much as an X-ray would, as if this very handsome man could see right through Alfred with those green eyes. Then, his expression changed, as if he was unimpressed. He turned to Kiku, his English accent showing through his words.

"Good day, Mr. Honda. And who is this man?"

Alfred looked at Kiku, and being plagued with impatience, he stepped forward, flashing one of his best confident smiles. "The name's Alfred F. Jones, sir. I'm the new intern under the photography division. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kiku wanted to smack his palm to his forehead, annoyed at the fact the American completely threw his advice out the window. "Yes, this is Alfred F. Jones, Mr. Kirkland. He is a new intern. His brother, Matthew, is—"

The man lifted a hand to stop him. "That's enough, Mr. Honda, I didn't ask who his brother was." His gaze moved back to Alfred as he set his phone down, crossing the room to stand in front of his new employee. His gaze never left Alfred's, not for a moment, and despite being a mere inch shorter than Alfred, the aura around this man made him seem much larger than he was. Finally, he smirked with a soft laugh, as if finding something weak or amusing about Alfred. "Hm... Yes, well, a pleasure, I'm sure." His hand reached out for Alfred's to shake. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, the Editor-in-Chief and owner of this magazine, let alone this entire building. You may address me as 'Mr. Kirkland,' is that understood? Brilliant."

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but Mr. Kirkland already answered for him in a tone that says anything but "brilliant".

 _So can I seriously not talk? What the hell? I hate England. I want my first amendment rights back._

Arthur then turned to Kiku. "Right, you said he was the one in the photography department, correct? Well, he has nothing to do there since the entire division hasn't gotten their clothing or models yet. Therefore, to keep this one busy, he will be an errand boy for this upper floor. If my shoes need polishing, the floor needs scrubbing or waxing, papers need copying, or calls need to be put on hold, this one will do it and no one else, is that understood? Brilliant. He can start by getting me my coffee."

Alfred pursed his lips as he listened to the long list of bitch-work that Mr. Kirkland assigned to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but then refrained. _No, Alfred, DON'T talk. You always get into deep shit when you talk. But... how does he like his coffee? How am I supposed to know what kind of coffee he likes if Mr. Honda told me not to talk?!_

Suddenly, the double-wooden doors flew open with a loud thud, and in stormed a man with the most perfect hair Alfred has ever seen. His long, wavy blonde locks set just above his shoulders, framing his face perfectly. The man wore fitted red pants, black crocodile skin boots, a black turtleneck, and a fitted blue blazer over it. It was an outfit combination Alfred had only occasionally seen in magazines.

The man marched up to Mr. Kirkland, shouting in a thick French accent. "Arthur! What is the meaning of this?!" The stranger held up a magazine in front of the CEO's face. "You told me I was going to be on the front cover of this month's issue! Not Gilbert! Instead you put me on..." He flipped through the magazine in a hurry, "…one hundred and sixty-four! ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FOUR! Does 'head model' mean nothing to you anymore?!"

Arthur's expressions changed a mile a minute the moment those doors were practically blasted off of their hinges. The first was outrage, as if he dared the person to walk into his office like that again. The next was mild lack of amusement and frustration. He crossed his arms and raised one so that his hand was holding his forehead, as if the very sound of the intruder's voice was giving him a headache. "Francis, can we please do this another time? You are making quite the scene here and it is not reflecting well upon my company. And what did I tell you last time about barging into my office?"

"A 'scene'? I do not make scenes, mon ami, I make _moments_!" Just then, the Frenchman's blue eyes turned to look at Alfred, a sly smile forming on his face. "Ohonhon, and who is this?" Francis paced around the American in a circle. "Tall, slender, and..." he wrapped his hand around Alfred's bicep, "…very fit. Is this a new model? I thought you weren't hiring no one."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed upon being examined by Francis. "Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm not. I'm the new intern for the photography division."

Francis's eyes lit up upon hearing his youthful, non-European accent. "Aha, an American?" His bearded face inched closer to Alfred's, "I just adore Americans! You can take pictures of me any day, mon ange, or _night_."

Alfred's mouth dropped open slightly. _Was I...Did he...Did he just hit on me? Oh man, I hope Mattie is having just as much of a bangin' time downstairs as I am up here._

Arthur rolled his eyes, tapping his foot repeatedly to the floor in annoyance. "Francis, I will have none of this. Firstly, it is 'you weren't hiring anyone,' not 'no one.' Please learn the language correctly if you're going to speak it, you French frog. Secondly, I would appreciate it if you would cease hitting on every new body that enters the building. Otherwise, I will simply call a coroner to bring a corpse over, and then we might actually break that habit of yours. He is an intern and will not be taking the pictures. He will be working under select photographers, but for now, he is an errand boy. Oh, and Francis...?" Arthur's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to the model, murmuring in his ear with a dangerous tone so that no one else could hear. "If you cost me a scandal, or even lay one of your hairy fingers on him, I will demote you to taking pictures in Target's next catalogue instead of Tudor Rose, am I to be understood?"

Francis emitted the biggest gasp Alfred had ever heard. The model backed away from Arthur, looking incredibly offended. "How DARE you threaten me with such a horrid proposal! It's as if you just shot an arrow through my heart!" He turned up his nose, taking a short breath. "Fine. Have it your way." Francis flipped his hair as he turned, walking towards the door. He turned around one final time, facing Arthur, with Alfred's back towards him. "Have fun with your little errand boy then, Arthur." And with that, the flamboyant Frenchman shut the double doors, but not before winking in Arthur's general direction.

Arthur rolled his eyes once more as the Frenchman left. "Dear God, I thought he would never leave. Oh well, crisis averted."

Alfred's eye began to twitch. _I am not some stupid errand boy! I have a name, and it's Alfred! And is everyone like that around here? No wonder... what did Francis call him? Arthur? No wonder he has such a giant stick up his ass._ The American then attempted to act as if the whole exchange never happened. _Fuck it, I'm talking. I think I have the right to after that show._

"Uh, and how would you like your coffee, Mr. Kirkland?"

Arthur looked at him with surprise for a moment, as if fascinated that "it can talk", and a crocodile-like smile appeared on his face. "Yes, I would like a half-decaf, half-caffeinated coffee, the largest that they have. I want 30 milliliters of cream in it, stirred up—Oh that's right, you're _American_ —" he said, as if emphasizing the undesirability of that characteristic, "—So that's about two tablespoons for you, and two, specifically two, pumps of hazelnut flavouring. Now, run off, lad." The CEO made a shooing motion with his hand while he turned to Kiku, starting to talk with him quietly about a new issue of the magazine. "Now, Mr. Honda, Miss Sterling was just on the phone, and..."

While the other two were busy conversing about actual business, Alfred stood there, trying to extinguish his already very short fuse. _Lad..? Do I look like a lad to him?! I am almost twice his size! And is that the best coffee order he's got? My grandma orders a more complicated coffee than that. Little does he know that I actually worked at Starbucks back home._ "A venti half-caf double pump hazelnut, two splash cream, no classic drip. Got it." Alfred turned on his heel and walked out of the office, feeling quite proud of himself. He wasn't going to allow this British prick to break him.

Arthur's words paused again as he heard Alfred repeat the order back to him, looking at him with mild surprise as Alfred left the office. "This one actually has some spunk to him." His smile turned more into a smirk, a dangerous one at that, and his eyes flashed at sensing the challenge.

Kiku frowned ever so slightly. He had seen that look before, and it was usually reserved for his greatest competitors. "M-Mr. Kirkland, I apologize, sir—"

Before Kiku could finish, Arthur held up a hand to stop him. "It's alright, Mr. Honda. The grunt will learn his place soon enough. But for now, have him report back to me once he's finished getting the coffee." With that amused smirk, Arthur returned to his desk and sat down in his seat, starting to type. He picked up a pair of glasses and perched them on his nose, his glance not even leaving the computer. "You are dismissed, Mr. Honda."

"Y-Yes, sir!" Kiku bowed once again and scuttled out to his desk to await Alfred's return.

Little did Alfred know that the closest Starbucks was about three to four blocks away, with the rush-hour traffic of London added on top of it. As soon as he arrived, a wave of panic flooded through him, for he was in the back of a very long line of sleep-deprived, impatient British businessmen and women.

 _Ohhhhhh... motherfucker._

Alfred felt his cell-phone vibrate in his pants pocket. Upon inspecting it, he sighed as he read who the contact was. _Really? I haven't even been working for an hour and my mom already calls._ He answered it quickly, rushing through his words. "Hey, ma. Listen, I can't talk; I'm out fetching coffee for Mr. Kirkland. Yeah, he's my boss. Mattie and I will call you later, okay? Love you, Bye."

"Did you say Kirkland? As in Arthur Kirkland?""

The American looked up in the direction of the foreign voice, and noticed it was coming from a guy several people in front of him. His appearance surprised Alfred, for he had silver hair yet he did not look that much older than Alfred himself. "Uh, yeah, I did. What's it to you?"

"Ah, well if it's for Arthur, please, I insist you get in front of me for your own sake."

"Oh, okay then! Wow, thanks, man!" Alfred was delighted, jumping out of line in order to stand in front of his incredibly helpful stranger.

"I take it you're his new errand boy?"

" _No,_ " Alfred stated firmly, wishing that everyone would stop referring to him as such, "I'm an intern. How do you know him?"

The man let out a loud, hearty laugh. "I work for him. The name's Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt. You may have heard of me. I'm a model for Tudor Rose. The most awesome one, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

 _Gilbert?_ Alfred thought, _This must be the guy Francis was talking about earlier!_ "Ah, nice to meet you, Gilbert. I'm Alfred."

"NEXT!"

The American whipped his head around to realize that he was already next in line. "A venti half-caf double pump hazelnut two splash cream no classic drip, please and thank you! Oh, extra hot!"

"Wow, you ordered that like a professional. Very awesome, but not as awesome as me." Gilbert stated before ordering his drink. He joined after on the other side of the register. "Can I give you some advice, Alfred? You remind me a lot of... well… me. And that's a good thing. I admire your oozing confidence, but I highly suggest you suck it up and put up with all of Arthur's self-centered bullshit." The model picked up Alfred's drink for him and handed it to him. "You'll be rewarded in the end, I promise you. Now go, you don't want to keep him waiting."

 _I don't put up with anyone's bullshit._ Alfred thought. _But whatever, I can't let myself get fired. Otherwise, I won't pass college._ "Uh, thanks, dude! I owe you one. I'll see you around!" He quickly put a cardboard slip and stopper on the drink before running quickly out of the coffee shop. Thanking his previous experience in his high school athletics department, he was able to make it back to the office building in a matter of minutes. He approached Kiku's desk, trying to catch his breath. "Hi, Mr. Honda, I have—" _His Lordship's "—_ Mr. Kirkland's coffee."

The Japanese man looked up from some paperwork, a look of utter surprise on his face. "Y-You... You are finally back, Mr. Jones!" Kiku stood up, looking frantic. "You've been gone for nearly a half an hour or more. Was there a line?"

"A half an hour?!" _It took that long?! Good thing I ordered it "extra hot". The jerk will never know._ "But yeah, there was a line, out the door actually. Oh, I also met another one of your employees, Gilbert. He seems nice."

Kiku was still surprised Mr. Kirkland even ordered coffee, for he had never seen him drink the beverage in his life. "N-Never mind that, you got the coffee, that is what is important." The secretary took a deep breath, looking at him with concern. "Though, Mr. Jones, I must remind you... What did I tell you before we went into Mr. Kirkland's office the first time?"

The American tried not to roll his eyes. "I know I know. Do not interrupt. Do not ask questions. I got it. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Honda." Alfred smiled at the smaller man. "Should I take it to him?"

Kiku sighed softly, a look of parental concern still on his face. "Yes, you should take it into him. He instructed for it specifically. Now remember, please do what I advised. I do not want to see you dismissed for behavior, Mr. Jones. I am sure your family, especially your brother, is counting on you."

Alfred cleared his throat upon hearing Kiku's grave words. "Don't worry, Mr. Honda. I won't let you down either." The intern walked over to the double doors and knocked before opening them. Deciding that silence was an okay indicator to proceed, Alfred walked in quietly. As soon as Alfred entered, he could see Arthur was still typing away at his computer. He was about to set Arthur's coffee down on his desk until he noticed a set of coasters on the corner of the desk. Figuring he'd be yelled at if he didn't use them, Alfred grabbed one and set the coffee down on top of it in front of Arthur silently.

The CEO made no noise or sign of acknowledgement towards Alfred for a good five minutes. Finally, he paused in his typing and sat back in his chair, looking over at the document as he reached for the cup, taking a sip. _Hmm... It's rather good, whatever this was that I came up with. I can't believe he actually got this._ Deeming his document properly proofread, he looked up at Alfred and nodded. "You took your time getting this, did you? Never mind, I can tell by the nervousness about you." He gestured over to the corner where there seemed to be a small closet. "Inside you will find a broom and dustpan. If you could sweep this office, that would be lovely." Arthur took another sip of the coffee and replaced it primly on the coaster, his eyes going back to some spreads on his desk.

Alfred tried so hard to not have his hands ball up into fists as he glanced over to the closet. He remembered Gilbert's words from earlier suddenly. _Just do it, Alfred. Act like you don't care. Act like he's not getting to you. Don't let him win, especially on the first day._ The young American smiled and nodded at his new boss before going over to the closet, fetching the broom and dustpan. Upon inspection, he noticed a hefty supply of different kinds of tea. More importantly, there was no coffee in sight. _Does he not like coffee?_ Alfred thought. _Is this some kind of sick game to him? To see how mad he can make me?_ Alfred took a deep breath before shutting the door. _No, Alfred, don't say anything, for the love of God._ He silently started to sweep the room, starting around the edges. _Why am I even sweeping? This is so 19th century! Where is a freaking vacuum in this joint?_

Arthur smirked as he looked over some of the proposed spreads for the magazine pages, his eyes flickering up to Alfred. The American's expressions were so easy to read. He watched as Alfred went to the closest, and noticing that he found the tea, tried to keep his expression in check. After a moment, he spoke again, "Now now, you don't have to be a mime, Mr. Intern. Instead of nodding at me, you can say, 'Yes, Mr. Kirkland' or something like that."

Alfred stopped his sweeping to look up at Arthur. He gave him his classic smile, his words straining through his teeth. "Yes, Mr. Kirkland."

"And also," Arthur continued, "Since I can see that you're practically bursting at the seams to speak, might I inquire as to whether you have any questions for me about my company?" His eyes are still down on the papers as he goes through them, muttering softly. "Shit... shit... horse shit..."

Alfred snorted slightly at Arthur's comment. "Oh, I'm that easy to read, huh?" He placed his hands on top of the broom handle and rested his chin on them. "Well, how did you become the editor-in-chief of such a world renowned magazine? Did you found it? Or inherit it? Or work your way up? I just admire your success is all." _Nice work with the compliment, Alfred! Get on his good side so he doesn't want to behead you like he most likely already does._ He started sweeping again, only to abruptly stop. "Also, does Gilbert dye his hair to be that color? Because he's not that old to have completely grey hair."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but a soft snort is heard from him at the last question that Alfred asked. His gaze never left his work. "Firstly, as for Gilbert's hair, I do believe it is entirely natural. I'm not sure whether he has some albino roots or something, but it works to our advantage. Many women find his silver hair with classic, Germanic features extremely appealing. Next time, you should try staring at his eyes to see what color those are." The amused grin increases for a moment, referring to Gilbert's striking red eyes, but then his expression turned a bit more serious. "As for my company, I did not inherit it; this magazine was built upon my own blood, sweat, and tears... but more of the former two than the later, I suppose. I created the magazine soon after leaving college for good and I built it up slowly but surely until it has become the top fashion magazine in the United Kingdom, and is always a top competitor in the world market. So I became Editor-in-Chief simply because it is, without a doubt, my magazine." Arthur never lost that air of importance and superiority, but at the same time, didn't sound like he was bragging. He simply sounded extremely proud of what he had accomplished.

Alfred's head tilted to the side as Arthur continued his story, listening intently, which was quite rare for him. He blinked a few times when Arthur finished. "Wow, that's... that's amazing. I hope I can do that when I'm your age—" His eyes widened suddenly. "—NOT THAT I'M IMPLYING YOU'RE OLD OR ANYTHING! Because you're not!" He hurriedly started sweeping the floor again.

Time seemed to have slowed down once Alfred's societal slipup sunk in. Alfred could see the dangerous smirk evolving on Mr. Kirkland's face with every tick of the second-hand on the older man's watch. "Yes, when you're my age…Well, I pray that by the time you're my age, you won't still be an intern." He smiled. After all, Arthur was only twenty-three. In fact, he was probably one of the youngest self-made millionaires in the world. "And although I'm hesitant to ask, what exactly is your interest in fashion, Mr. Jones? It seems as if you don't have a... well, you certainly don't practice an interest in it." That smug look was still there; obviously saying that Alfred's clothes were not fashionable.

Alfred tried super hard not to change his facial expression to anything but cheerful. _Yes, Mr. SMIRKland, when I'm your age, I'll be sure to wipe that goddamn smirk off your snobbish face._ He quickly looked down at his clothes, then back up at Arthur. "It's a work in progress. But, I like taking photos, specifically of people, and I like taking photos that tell a story, and fashion helps tell whatever story that is, whether it's a tragedy, comedy, historical, epic, adventure, sensual, or a farce. In fact, I don't think a story could be told without it." Alfred was proud that he finally had a well thought out and intelligent answer. "And I'm sure I will learn a lot about fashion during my internship."

As soon as Alfred started talking about taking photos and its relationship to fashion, Arthur actually looked up at him, his eyes leaving his work. He looked at him with a blank expression that seemed to be a bit hard to read.

Alfred met Arthur's intense gaze and stopped breathing for a moment. _Why is he looking at me like that? And why isn't he saying anything? Is he plotting to kill me? Does he keep any lethal weapons in his desk?_

A few moments passed by before Mr. Kirkland nodded to Alfred. "Yes, I'm sure that you will. You are right, fashion has a lot to do with photography, especially portraits. And no one's story or movie could be rightfully told without fashion." His eyes went back to the proposals, continuing his work. "Any other thoughts, Mr. Jones? I'm glad you're quite the philosopher." His smirk resumed as he picked up the coffee, taking another hearty sip.

The American let out a relieved breath as his boss agreed with him. "I have enlightening thoughts, when it counts. And yes, actually, do you design clothes as well? Or do you just coordinate the magazine?" He bent down and swept up the pile of dust that he had collected into the dustpan. "Also, how are you enjoying that coffee? I'm afraid that it might not be your… 'cup of tea', so to speak." Alfred made his play on words as loud and clear as Arthur's abundant stash of tea in his closet.

"Well yes, I—" Arthur stopped as soon as Alfred mentioned the coffee, and his civil tone and expression disappeared. His gaze turned heated again, smirking dangerously over the top edge of the work he has raised up. "As of now, I coordinate the entire magazine. Nothing gets put in that I don't approve of and nothing gets by without my approval. As for the coffee, this swill is fairly decent, I suppose..." He sat back in his chair, leaning back as he sets down the papers. Arthur lifted up the half-full coffee cup and took a sip. "The cream is decent, though they put in far too much, and the hazelnut flavor is barely there, but the temperature is—" He took another sip, paused, and made a disgusted face. "—Ah, it seems that's not even right. It seems that the entire bottom of the coffee is cold, not just room temperature, but cold. And, since your statement reminded me that it is, in fact, not my cup of tea..."

His arm stretched out to the side, away from his carpet, and completely up-ended the rest of the coffee onto the tile floor. Dark, thick liquid poured out from the formerly half-full cup, spraying the floor in every which direction. "...I think it's nearly time for my midday tea." He glanced at Alfred ever so calmly and nodded towards his broom, then the closet. "It's a good thing you were about to mop, then, isn't it?"

Alfred eyes widened as he watched Arthur spill the coffee, as if in slow motion. He could feel the heat rising to his face as he watched the symbolic, British version of the Boston Tea Party spread across the floor. _Why…that…little—!_ The American covered up his anger quickly, flashing his boss a rather genuine-looking smile. "Well, I am sorry it wasn't to your satisfaction. And yes, you are correct, how fortunate." The intern threw what dirt that he collected into a nearby trash bin and retrieved the mop and bucket from out of the closet. _Shall I put on a French maid outfit while I'm at? If I had no self-control I'd hit him in that smug face of his._

As soon as all of the coffee had spilled out, Arthur dropped the cup into the trashcan next to his desk, shaking off his hand from the tiny droplets that dared get onto his skin. He took out an embroidered handkerchief, wiping the rest from his hands. "Disgusting, filthy coffee... How they let all of those grounds get into the bottom of the cup... Ugh." He murmured it softly as he puts his handkerchief away into his pocket. He picked up the proposals and started looking them over once more. Taking a red marker, he made edits in large, angry lines, and then in small script, wrote his notes in careful lettering. He didn't bother to look up at Alfred as he spoke, "And do make sure it doesn't get caught in the grout; I don't think you'd want to have to re-tile my office, Mr. Jones."

Alfred only stopped mopping for a split millisecond when Arthur spoke to him. "Yes, Mr. Kirkland." He quickly continued as if nothing bothered him.

About a half hour later, Alfred had finished mopping the entire room. Wiping a thin sheet of sweat off of his forehead, he put the mop and bucket back into the closet, shutting the door. The American tried to sound as cheery as possible, though it was secretly killing him inside. "So what else is on my agenda for today, Mr. Kirkland?"

Arthur didn't even acknowledge him for a few minutes after Alfred's asked his question. He kept looking at the papers in front of him, making corrections for a few more minutes. Finally, he shuffled them all together, put them into a manila folder, wrote some notes on the front of it, and paper-clipped it all together. "Yes, take this up to Mr. Honda for me. He is to disperse the notes to the corresponding workers. He will decide whether you should go with him to assist, or if your... abilities... are better suited to assisting me." The Englishman handed the folder to him with a serious expression. "Take care not to drop it, will you? There are some very loose pieces in there I would hate to lose."

Alfred fought the urge to roll his eyes. He took the folder from Arthur's hand, giving him a polite nod. "Understood. I will guard it with my life." The intern saluted Arthur as if he were a soldier and began to walk towards the main double-doors of Arthur's office until he heard that British accent once again.

"Oh, and Jones?"

Alfred turned his neck in order to look at him again, blue eyes connecting with green, daring to look him in the eye. "Yes, Mr. Kirkland?"

"Welcome to the company."

 **A/N: As always, thank you so much for reading! We hope you are enjoying our new story so far. Please feel free to follow, favorite, and even review! We'd love to hear from you!**


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